Carbon Copy
by BBVX
Summary: When something sounds like you, looks like you, and fights like you, how the heck are you supposed to win? Something is lurking in New York, and it's out for Raph and Leo's blood. To destroy it, the guys are going to need all of their strength, their focus, their resolve, and some downright dirty tactics.


April watched the wine fill up her glass with red-rimmed eyes and the occasional sniffle. She hiccupped, her hand swayed, and the white liquid splattered all over the coffee table. And her paperwork.

She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the mess. "Stupid Case— _hic!_ —ey. Stupid. Bone-headed— _hic!_ —ignorant— _hic!_ —Oh for crying out— _hic!_ —loud!"

She put the bottle down on the table and licked her sticky wine-flavoured fingers, rolling her tongue down the flat of her hand. It was bitter. She hated bitter things. But with the mood she was in she just couldn't handle anything sweet, so something bitter was definitely needed. The wine itself was tacky and cheap, bought from the 24-hour supermarket down the road, and it would do. By God, if she had to gulp it back until her tastebuds were corroded off her tongue, _it would do!_

Reaching out, she gave her glass a dirty look and grabbed the neck of the bottle. "Fuck it."

She put her feet up on the arm of the couch, kicked the pillows over the side and out of the way, and pressed the bottle to her lips. Chugging back the drink was easy, keeping it down was harder. When the bottle was finally empty she felt like she couldn't hold it together any longer. Her strength was gone, her bones weak and her mind too frustrated to even think. The bottle slipped from her hand and rolled along the floor and under the coffee table before she'd realised her numb fingers had let go.

A moan stuck in her throat and she choked it back.

"April, are you okay?"

" _Ah!_ "

She grabbed the nearest thing and lobbed it.

The shadow sidestepped the flying remote and April watched it smash into the backwall. Plastic shattered over the carpet; the batteries bounced in different directions before thudding and rolling into corners she couldn't see. She froze, her mind flooded with emotion but stupefied by the dull buzz of wine. Her lips parted, her heart hammered in her chest, breaths quick, fingers reaching out for the next nearest thing—

"Sorry, April. Didn't mean to frighten you."

Her fingers stopped halfway to the table and she stared at the shadow with squinted eyes. Dark green shifted through the darkness and the intruder looked at the broken remote, left hand on his hip.

April sighed and pressed her hand against her face. A little too roughly, she noticed, and her cheek and nose stung. Her eyes slipped tiredly shut and she swung her legs over the side of the couch, sitting up but sagging to the left.

"Leo…" Another sigh, a little quieter, and her hands flopped over her knees. The shadow turned to face her but she couldn't see him clearly in the darkness. "It's late. Really late." She reached for her half-empty glass of wine. "I didn't get a call."

"I didn't call," Leonardo said softly. He stepped over the broken remote, or, at least, April assumed he did. She didn't hear his feet, but the shadows shifted just a little as he came into view and into focus; the glare off the TV illuminated his chest and chin, but left the rest of him in the shadows.

He looked… bruised. A little bruised, anyway. April saw the dark purple skin on his left shoulder and a long graze that ran down the same arm, from shoulder to elbow and elbow to wrist. His fingers twitched and she noticed the wraps on his wrist were dirty, but that was nothing new; the guys' wraps were always dirty after a long night out, and it was… what was it? Twelve thirty? One?

She wrinkled her nose and looked at the TV. Too bad she'd busted the remote, she kind of wanted to know the time. If it was late, _early-late_ , then it was too late for a Leo-visit. A Raph-visit maybe, occasionally a Mikey-visit, every now and then, on super-rare occasions, a Donnie visit. But a Leo-visit?

She pulled herself upright and put her glass down, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. To sober up—that's what she needed. To think. Rationality; forget Casey, this could be important. Hell, Ichiban Turtle was here in person, without calling, at what she presumed was one a.m., of course it was important.

Leonardo shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably and she realised she'd spaced out staring at the brown coffee stain on the carpet. A small smile stretched on her lips and she hoped it was reassuring. She didn't like to see any of the turtles out of place here; this was her home, and they were her friends, more like family, so this was their home too. But still, as she looked at Leo she got that feeling again, a little stronger this time, but she couldn't quite place it. Something was definitely odd. Something was missing.

A heavy booze-inflicted ache throbbed at the back of her head and she slumped forward.

"Your window was open," Leonardo said, thumbing over his shoulder. "Thought I'd let myself in. Sorry, probably should have called first."

"But I thought… Could have sworn I locked up…" She shook her head and glared at the bottle of wine. Why did she even start drinking in the first place? Oh. Right. Casey. That damn jerk. It was all his fault. He—

"Maybe I should leave…"

April looked up, her hand on the arm of the couch, fingers digging into the fabric. Leonardo wasn't looking at her anymore, wasn't even standing in the same spot, wasn't even there. She couldn't see him, not that she was surprised; when the turtles went stealth it was impossible to know where they were without extreme concentration, and maybe sometimes Master Splinter's help. But that didn't stop her from trying. Hell, if anything it made her more determined.

With that thought in mind and a surge of confidence, she stood, wobbled, and looked around her living room.

Clothes on the floor, pizza box and Chinese takeout tubs piled high, curtains pulled shut, TV on but the volume low, a new programme about some secret eater trying desperately to lose weight but unable to drag himself out of denial, but no Leonardo. The closet – she swayed towards it – was stacked high with unpacked boxes, but no turtle. She shut the door and saw the light on in the kitchen. Perfect. Leonardo was hungry, chowing down, he must be— sure, it was more like Mikey, but she hadn't left the light on, she _knew_ that.

A devilish smirk stretched her lips at the thought of catching the oldest turtle off guards at his own game. She wasn't sure why he'd turned the light on when he'd snuck off, but who cared? She used the wall to prop herself up and stumbled to the door, refusing to admit she was that drunk.

"Ah-ha!—ah?"

Empty. The kitchen was completely empty. She couldn't believe it. The light was on and the fridge was ajar; the window was open just a little and the net curtains flapped in the breeze. The smell of New York drifted in — petrol and the curry her neighbour had for tea two days ago. Sirens shrieked through the night and moggies screeched down back-alleys and fell off dustbin lids when someone in the flats lobbed something and yelled 'Shut the fuck up!'

She reached over the sink and frowned, grabbing the latch and tugging the window shut. "Guess he left—"

"Why did you open the window?"

"Ah!"

She span and flailed over the kitchen top, barely keeping herself upright. Leonardo rushed to catch her, but she straightened herself up and sank into a chair before he was even close, assuring him she was fine, everything was okay, just a little drunk.

"You sure?" he asked, looking doubtful.

She smiled. "Yeah. That wine was some strong stuff. Guess it got the better of me, that's all."

"Uh-huh…" He was unconvinced, she could tell, though he'd never say it. "Hey, April, is it okay if I stay here for a bit? Hang out for a couple of hours."

It was politely put, but it wasn't really a request. April knew because a) his shoulders knotted in the 'I'm not moving on this' pose, and b) he'd sat down.

"Sure, Leo," she smiled and nodded. "You guys are always welcome here, Sensei, too. You know that."

"Thanks, April."

They fell into silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but April felt it. She scratched the back of her hand and looked round the kitchen, spying some prawn crackers at the far end and taking a few to munch on. Her teeth grated through the stale crackers and crunched loudly.

Leonardo didn't look at her. He looked above her instead, just behind her head where the window was, watching the lightbulb reflected in the glass. His head turned to the left a little and he breathed deep, the left side of his mouth tightening.

"So," April said, and immediately his eyes trained on her. She took another bite of prawn cracker and grinned with crumbs on her lips. "How're the guys?"

"They're… good." He strained his voice to a happier pitch and smiled. "Really good. Raph's still out, though."

Ah. And there was the reason for his unsociable visit. "You think he'll show here?"

"No, just fancied a chat." He looked at the window again. "Mind if I turn off the light?"

She blinked, trying to think things through with a brain so drowned in alcohol that it felt like she was thinking through syrup. "Erm, no. I mean, sure. Go ahead."

"Thanks."

The light was off and he was back in his seat in seconds. She heard the chair groan and her own breathing in the darkness; the streetlight and the glow from the apartment opposite filtered in through the window and landed in a thin strip across the mess on the table. Everything else was in darkness. She couldn't see into it, but she knew Leonardo was there—mostly because he tapped his finger on the table.

They sat in the dark for a while. April didn't count the seconds, but she'd finished her crackers and started on a Twinkie by the time she'd thought of something to talk about, and it was so obvious a conversation starter that she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner.

Oh yeah, the wine.

"So, you and Raph." He stopped tapping on the table and she wondered if she'd plucked a nerve. "Is everything okay?"

She had the feeling that he shrugged, but that was so un-Leo-like that she completely dismissed it.

"I'm just looking for him. Don't suppose you've seen him, have you?"

"Raph?" She shook her head and then remembered he couldn't see her. "No. Not since Wednesday. Did you two have another fight?"

"I thought he might have been with Casey, and Casey's normally here, so—"

"Casey?" She tutted and rolled her eyes, leaning back with folded arms and legs crossed. "I haven't seen Casey for two days, bonehead that he is. We, er…" She itched her arm and plucked at a loose thread on her shirt. "Kind of had a fight."

"Fight?"

"A little spat," she said quickly, reaching out for his hand in the darkness and patting his warm fingers when she found them. "Nothing serious, I promise."

"So long as it's nothing. Casey, he'll… He'll come around, April. Trust me. He's just stubborn."

"Yeah. Stubborn and then some. But it's fine. Just a rough patch, things'll sort themselves out. Anyway, you and Raph, dare I ask?"

Another shrug, she assumed, and his weight shifted on the chair. "I'm just looking for him. Don't suppose you have any idea where he might be, do you?"

"Raph?" She nibbled her bottom lip and slouched forward, staring at the dark wood in front of her and listening to the kitchen clock somewhere above the stove. "Um, well, Casey normally finds him south side of—"

"He's not there."

She blinked dumbly and rubbed her eyes. It really was early. "Okay. Umm… maybe around central—"

"Checked there too." Leonardo sighed, and she though she saw his hand move through the shadows from the table to his cheek. "And he won't answer his cell."

"I'm sure he's okay. He probably just needs time to cool off."

He paused for a long time. April thought he'd wondered off before she heard a heavy drawn-out sigh followed dismally by his tired voice.

"I should probably go look again."

His chair scraped back and the artificial streetlight slithered onto his plastron. His sheathes and belt were in place, like usual, strapped securely to his frame, but there was something missing. She looked at his bruised shoulder again and winced — the mark had gone from an ugly shade of purple to a nasty jet black. Above his shell his sheathes were wrapped in faded brown leather and slightly ripped, the same as usual, but they were… empty?

No. That couldn't be right.

She pushed her chair back and stood. Leonardo stepped away from the moonlight, but not before she'd seen for certain. The hilt, the blue wraps, the _swords_ —

"Leo, where are your swords?"

He half-turned, his shoulder facing the door and away from the moonlight. Just before the light fell off him April saw him stare at the window again, his eyes narrowed.

She looked at the window too, but she couldn't see anything except the black bars of the building's fire escape. The wind picked up and she could hear it whistling through the vent before a vicious _boom!_ of thunder burst above the clouds and rain poured over the city. It hit the panes in fine drips at first, but it quickened into thick drops that pelted the glass.

April thought about turning the heating on but another clash of thunder made her cringe. She turned from the window when a flash of lightening made the world momentarily white.

Her kitchen became visible for a quick second — cluttered surfaces, clean floor, home-made bolognaise left in the pan. The clock above the oven read 02:37, and Leonardo was nowhere to be seen.

"Leo? Psst… Leo? Huh."

She fumbled towards the light switch, flinching when thunder rumbled over her apartment. Light bathed the room and she searched everywhere. In the living room a window was open but pushed-to so the rain wouldn't get inside.

"Oh, Leo," she mumbled softly, pulling it shut.

Her mind started to clear a little and she fumbled in her back pocket for her phone. She punched in a memorized number and the phone rang four times before the groggy voice on the other side crackled through.

"' _Lo? April? Time is it?"_

"Donnie, is everyone alright?" She sat down on her couch and stared at the static on the TV. "Is Leo okay?"

" _Leo? Hang on, what time is it?_ " Movement sounded through the phone and she could hear him mumbling before he came back to her. " _April, it's two a.m. Leo's fine. He's asleep, everyone is. Well, was._ " His voice shifted to worry. " _Why, has something happened? Are you okay? Di—"_

"I'm fine, Don. It's just… Well, Leo stopped by—"

" _Leo?"_ Don sounded stumped. April listened to the rustling of sheets followed by the soft padding of feet walking across the floor. " _You sure you weren't dreaming? I mean Leo's here, sleeping."_

"No he's not," April said, running a hand back through her hair. "He was here, Donnie, like ten seconds ago. He was looking for Raph."

" _Oh. Well Raph probably isn't home yet…"_

The voice drifted off and a yawn wandered over the connection. April had to fight back her own. "How come?"

" _Well it's Raph. He left a couple of hours ago, probably won't be back until after three either."_

"So nothing happened with him and Leo?"

" _Nothing that I know about. Why?"_

"No reason. Leo just seemed a little jumpy. He didn't have his swords with him or anything."

"… _April, I definitely think you were dreaming."_

"Donatello, I was not dreaming! Leonardo came in through the window and—"

" _Donatello, who's on the phone? I don't suppose Raphael's back yet?"_ A second voice called. It was familiar, especially since it had been in her apartment a few minutes ago.

" _Just April, Leo, and no, he isn't back yet. You know, considering it's super early I'm surprised you managed to sleep at all. I thought your nerves would be fried by now."_

"Donnie, who _is_ that?" April stressed, sinking as far back into her sofa as humanely possible.

" _Huh? Oh, it's Leo. Like I told you, he was sleeping. Guess we woke him up. Though it's kinda weird because—_

"Because he was in my apartment two minutes ago!"

" _Erm… no, not quite. I was going to say it's weird because Raph isn't home and Leo isn't going crazy. April, I really think you need some sleep. I'm sure Raph's gonna be back soon and everything's fine on this end."_

"Donnie—"

" _Would you feel better if we came over?"_

"No…" She placed her hand to her forehead and stared at the wine bottle. Maybe she'd had one too many and now she was dreaming up sword-less ninja turtles and having early conversations with their sleepy brothers. But she had been so _sure_. "I'll be fine, Donnie. Just… just put Leo on for a second, will you?"

" _Okay. Sure, hang on a sec."_

April listened to the rustling as the phone was passed between hands until a smooth, almost metallic voice overtook the conversation. It was definitely Leonardo's and in the background she could hear Donatello whispering about her being spooked. As if she could be 'spooked' after living in New York with four mutated turtles and a mutated rat for friends.

" _April?"_

"Leo." She faltered. What was she afraid of? "Leo, didn't you come to my apartment a few minutes ago?"

" _Your apartment? No. I've been at the lair with everyone else."_

"I… I was just so sure—"

" _I've been in the lair with my brothers all night, April."_ His voice deepened. " _Why? Has something happened?"_

"No, I just… No. No, nothing's happened." She shook her head to emphasize her point. "I'm glad you're all okay. I think maybe I just hit the wine a little too hard, you know?"

Her nervous laughter echoed into the silence that drifted between them. It resonated for an age before it was sliced with the confident stroke of Leonardo's words, as quick and as sharp as his swords.

" _Have you seen Raphael?"_

Déjà vu swamped her. She hesitated.

" _April, have you seen Raphael?"_

"No, I haven't. He, er… He might be with Casey. We had a bit of a fight an—"

" _I have to go. But we'll talk soon, don't worry. Make sure you get some sleep, you sound exhausted."_

The connection ended.

April stared at the phone, dumbfounded. The blunt cut off was so unlike any of the turtles that she was lost. Frustrated, she threw her phone to the other side of the couch and rubbed her eyes.

"I'm never drinking aga—"

 _THUD!_

It came from the front window. Something outside was crawling up the fire-escape, rattling the bars. It tapped on her window. Loudly.

April's first thought was that one of the turtles had come back, that Leo had found Raph and they were coming to stay for the night, that maybe Donnie had left the lair and come to help settle her mind… But why the knocking? The guys never knocked, never needed to.

She walked to the window with slow, cautious footsteps. The tapping increased in speed, holding her attention. She reached out for the curtains and felt the warm red fabric. Grabbed it tight.

And yanked it back.

Blood smeared the window. It was swiped — someone had fallen or been dragged over the side — and watery, half washed away by the rain.

She pressed her fingers against the glass, measuring the size of the handprint against her own and trying to see somebody on the other side. There was no one.

The metal fire escape started to rattle again and she pulled back from the glass, watching with shock-filled anxiety, ready to dart to the couch for her phone.

Over the rain she heard a familiar voice cursing creatively and a green arm flung itself over the end railing.

Without thinking April threw the window open. Rain pelted her face until she could hardly see, but she could still hear him, and when a green arm touched hers she grabbed it and helped pull him inside.

Inside Raphael sunk forward, red mask ripped, fighting for breath as if he'd run the length of the city. He sagged against the wall and she shut the window before helping him to the couch and turning on the lamp. Light flooded the room and she winced.

Raphael was exhausted, soaked, and bleeding all over her carpet. One hand gripped his right arm and squeezed to try and stem the blood, help it clot. His body —face, chest, arms, legs, sides — all of him, was covered with deep black whelping bruises that stretched from a few centimetres to a handprint.

Gasping for breath, he thrust his only sai into his belt with such vigour that it ripped the leather and almost snapped. Molten-gold eyes looked black in the weak light and he hissed, sucking in a tight breath and trying to hold his wound shut.

In a heartbeat April knelt beside him. "What happened?!"

"You got a towel or sumink? I'm drippin' all over yer carpet."

Without thinking she pulled her jumper off her back and handed it to him. He took it, muttered a thanks and pressed it to the wound, grunting and slamming his head back when sharp pains bit the raw flesh.

"Tsss—ow. Fuckin' hurts."

"Why did you knock?" she said, getting up and running to the kitchen to get him some water. "You should have just come in."

"I didn't knock," Raph grumbled, frowning at her.

She came back and put the glass on the table, snatching up her cell. But before she could dial anyone Raphael snatched her wrist and held it.

"What're you doin'?" he asked tiredly.

"Calling Donnie."

"Don't."

"Raph, you're hurt! We have to call Donnie so your brothers can—"

"Call Leo."

"E-excuse me?" April wasn't sure she'd heard right. "Did you just say—"

"Leo. Yeah."

"What difference does it make? Leo's at home."

"Leo ain't at home, Ape. Don't call Donnie. Don't call Mike. Don't call Splinter. Jus'—" he released her hand and pressed the jumper against his wound again—"jus' call Leo. Please."

"But Donnie's the one who'll fix you up."

"If you ring home that psycho-bot's gonna go nuts!" he snapped. Catching his temper, he shifted a little and let his head fall back against the couch. "Jus' call Leo, Ape. I'd really appreciate it if ya didn't ask questions."

She nodded, her brain completely fried, sleep-deprived and tipsy. Waiting for him to answer while she watched the blood clot over Raphael's fingers and soak through her jumper was torture. It seemed like forever. Finally, Leonardo picked up.

" _April—"_

"Leo, I have Raph! He's here on my couch and he's blee—"

"Pass me the phone, Ape," Raphael said, his breathing soft and patchy from the cold and the (she assumed) fight. She passed him the phone and listened.

"Leo? Yeah, look, remember when you said you'd killed it?" He paused before a wry laugh rolled from his lips and he shook his head. "It ain't dead… How do I know? How do I know?! Because it damn well chased me clear across NY City, Leo, that's how I know!... I'm at April's… No, it didn't follow me…" He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the coffee table. "Of course I'm sure."

April listened to him argue with Leo, but another sound caught her attention. It was a scratching sound, barely even audible over the wind. She walked round the back of an engrossed Raphael and found herself at the edge of the windowsill.

"Yo, Ape, come away from the window, will yer? 'S not safe," Raph shouted over his shoulder, shifting the towel so it was pressed between his arm and the couch.

April didn't listen. Something was scratching outside and it sounded like metal on the glass. It hurt her ears.

"Where's the other one…? I thought you said you'd taken care of it?!... My fault? My fault?! How is _any_ of this my fault?! I never asked you to follow me!"

April's fingers touched the curtains before she'd even registered it. Pulling them back ever so slightly, she saw a sharp metal point, so sharp it could slice through flesh and bone. It was a sai, and the red cloth round the hilt was so recognisable that her jaw dropped.

"Like I keep tellin' ya, Leo, it ain't here. I lost it down the… the…" He trailed off, eyes doubling back over the apartment he'd skimmed and landing on April, on the sai, on his sai. "Oh crud."

April dropped the blinds and darted back, her mind still bubbling with the image of a red sai and the green three-fingered hand attached to it.

"April!" Raph jumped up, phone and jumper forgotten, sai in hand. "I told yer to stay away from the window!"

He pulled her back as gently as he could with his wounded arm and listened to the sai scratch the glass.

"Who… Who…" She trailed off, backing away as Raph pushed her steadily into the heart of the room, his eyes never wavering from the window.

"It ain't a who, April, it's a what. And it's a what load of trouble is what it is."

"Oh good." She laughed nervously, her voice trembling. "I was afraid things would start getting confusing."

He shushed. He was listening for the sound, or, more accurately, the lack of it. The scratching sound was gone, and only the weather was left.

April held her breath, her body tense. She knew that she could fight, but not in the same league as the guys, and Raphael was with her — he was undeniably strong and fierce, but also wounded. Something was waiting for him, or her, or both, and it had one of Raphael's sais as a trophy.

She watched Raphael approach the window as if through a second diluted light, like she wasn't really there. He grabbed the curtains with his wounded hand and in one quick, fluid motion yanked them back.

Nothing.

The world outside was grey with rain and Raphael's bloody handprint had been washed away. Raph stared at his reflection in the glass breathing just as raggedly as himself, but there was nothing else beyond the panes.

Turning back to her, he held his sais so tight that April wondered how the metal hadn't snapped, or at the very least cut into his skin. He offered her a bold shrug and a quirky half-smirk.

"Guess I scared 'im off. Heh, creep should be 'fraid of me. If it came here I'd tear it to pieces!"

"Oh really? Heh. I don't think you could," a thickly accented voice drawled, almost identic to Raphael's, coming from behind them.

April span, turning so fast she fell backwards into Raphael. He wasn't looking at her; he stared over her, jaw clenched tight. Amber eyes raged and an animalistic growl burrowed deep in the pits of his throat, escaping as a thick snarl.

It was frightening, but not nearly as terrifying as the figure standing in the doorway. Leaning against the frame, red mask askew and bust lips bleeding red, Raphael's mirror image snorted cockily. His body was perfectly identic to Raphael's; the scars, the laugh, the voice, the eyes, the accent, even the shade of green — all the same. The copy was bleeding at the shoulder, the left wrist, the right thigh, and the temple, but was completely unfazed.

"Who the heck are you?" April yelled, sounding braver than she felt and grateful for it.

"Me?" The fake turtle pointed at itself innocently and smirked, the sai spinning between its fingers. "I'm Raphael. Well, I will be, anyway." It laughed and stepped forward, dropping into a defensive position. "Soon as I kill the original."

* * *

Hi! I've been gone for a while, so I hope anyone who read this enjoyed it! :)


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